


Pretty Boy

by minballs



Category: Monsta X, Monsta X (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Country & Western, Crime, Crossdressing, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Jail, Justice, Multi, Murder, Organized Crime, Prison, Victorian, Vigilante, Western, Wild West, cowboy, indians - Freeform, wanted, wanted dead or alive - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minballs/pseuds/minballs
Summary: “Should we get the basic, boring stuff out of the way first? I was born in 1856 in a little town called Hodgenville, just about 25 miles from here in Bardstown. LaRue County is right up against Nelson County, so I guess in technical terms Hodgenville and Bardstown would be considered neighbors of some sort. Now I was raised Christian, so I don't really believe in all the star stuff, but I'm told I'm a Scorpio? I like fast horses, pretty boys who like to undress more than they like to talk, and I like my Mama. But you don't really want to hear this David Copperfield shit though, do you? That isn't what you came to hear. No, you're here to hear how I came to be here in the jailhouse, waiting for my turn to be fitted for a rope necklace. Let me tell you the story of how I became the single most wanted outlaw in all of the American West.





	1. It Begins

I must admit, having a room all to yourself after spending years of being a renegade on the run is a refreshing change of pace. Time goes by and life goes on, but every now and then you've just got to sit back and take a deep breath. After all, human people aren't built to run for more than a couple of minutes; 8 years really takes a toll on a body.

You've got to hand it to these Kentuckians; these bastards and their southern hospitality knows no bounds. They gave me a cozy room next to the tavern, and every time I ask nice one of the bar masters brings me a tall glass of bourbon—God bless Father Elijah Craig and his sweet liquid gold. There’s even a beautiful view out of my window directly into the courtyard where the gallows stand, with the cemetery waiting placidly just beyond. Bardstown is a pretty little town, but it definitely isn't the last one I ever wanted to see in this life. Maybe Jesse—my accomplice and great teacher—will come over from his special room in Talbott Inn and have a drink with me at some point tonight. We'd split ways some years back, but even still he was still one of my best friends. He doesn't often come into town anymore on account of being so well known, but I guess he decided to make an exception. Everyone from here to Louisville loves him anyhow, so I doubt any of the laws around will make a move for him. Hell, even when I was still one of them years and years before he was kin to everyone. I do suspect the sheriff may feel some sort of way for me and that's why I'm being allowed visitors and being treated all nice like, but who really knows? The current sheriff I mean, not the one I shot.

I suppose I've got some time to talk since you're here and all, so I should probably introduce myself. I've done it for several other people today; you wouldn't believe the sheer amounts of folks pouring in to meet me today. It'd be rude of me to let all y'all hear my story while remaining completely anonymous throughout, wouldn't it? My name is Minhyuk Lee, but to most of these people who know me I'm called Pretty Boy. I've always hated that nickname myself, but it was a gift from the guy that got me into this whole mess himself and I feel I ought to wear it like some sort of badge of honor.

Should we get the basic, boring stuff out of the way first? I was born in 1856 in a little town called Hodgenville, just about 25 miles from here in Bardstown. LaRue County is right up against Nelson County, so I guess in technical terms Hodgenville and Bardstown would be considered neighbors of some sort. Now I was raised Christian, so I don't really believe in all the star stuff, but I'm told I'm a Scorpio? I like fast horses, pretty boys who like to undress more than they like to talk, and I like my Mama. Mama and Daddy were immigrants, coming from Korea to escape the grasping fingers of the Meiji invaders. They came through California, and worked their way east on the railroads until they finally came to rest in the little stagecoach town of Elizabethtown. A man there offered them a claim of land in the next county over, and that's how they came to be in Hodgenville. They established themselves a little laundry, and with a handful of cows and a small flock of chickens they managed to make themselves a good little living. Daddy died just a few years after I was born in the cholera epidemic, so it was just Mama and me for most of my life.

But you don't really want to hear this David Copperfield shit though, do you? That isn't what you came to hear. No, you're here to hear how I came to be here in the jailhouse, waiting for my turn to be fitted for a rope necklace. Let me tell it to you the right way.

 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

 

Every minute of the day in a Kentucky summer feels like an entire hour passing by. The cicadas and the bees hum lazily, drunk on the sweet perfume of the blooming honeysuckle. The air itself sweats, leaving skin glistening and warm. It's a place of unspoken desires, of sultry glances from behind lace fans and stolen kisses in the shade of a willow's long branches. Men and women go to church to praise god on Sundays, and then spend every other day by the river doing anything but praying. It's wild and untamed, and this is the place that I was born into. It was only second to Heaven, and it was all mine. This was my home.

Just like the beginning of every June since as long as I can remember, Mama and I had bought tickets to take the train from Hodgenville and on into Bardstown. The livestock auctions were in town, and she always liked to go and look at all the cattle options that were on offer there. Oftentimes a lot of the locals would come out as well, setting up stalls around the grand courthouse in the town square to sell handmade quilts and soaps and the like. The Rowan family that lived in the grand mansion that they called Federal Hill would open their doors and their lawns, serving cold lemonades and delicious tomato and bacon sandwiches to travelers. My personal favorite was going to see what the farmers had to sell from their harvests, and although Mama would chastise me for it to no end I would always buy myself a jar of clover honey and a few slices of watermelon to snack on throughout the day. She would tell me over and over that I was going to make my teeth rot black and fall out of my head, all the while handing me a handful of pennies to go and buy it anyway. Usually immediately after she would try to force feed me a slice of cucumber, using my utter disgust of them for her own amusement. "Minhyukkie, they're good for you! Grandmother used to grow them and they will make you grow tall and strong!" she'd call as I dodged her attempts, laughter pouring from both of us all the while.

Bardstown holds so many fond memories for me, even as I sit in this cell now. I guess it's not the worst place for the ending chapter of my life to be set.

It was the summer before I turned 18 that everything turned sour. Mama had gone to visit with Mrs. Rowan at Federal Hill, bringing with her a strawberry pie that she was known statewide for. Mrs. Rowan had lost her husband John the year before I was born when he'd fallen out the window of their mansion, and since John had been such a loyal customer in Mama and Daddy's laundry Mama immediately offered Mrs. Rowan whatever help she could offer. John had left her widowed with 10 children and a farm that she had no idea how to manage, and so Mama become close friends with her while teaching her how to go about day to day life in her newly widowed state. With Mama being from Korea and Mrs. Rowan being from Baltimore, I think they bonded over the fact that they were both somewhat of outsiders among the native Kentuckians. I don't think I can ever recall a time in my life when I saw Mrs. Rowan wearing a color other than black, but Mama assures me that prior to John's death she wore almost exclusively yellow and pink.

As for me, I had gone to eat my newly acquired watermelon on the steps of the stocks in front of the jail. The hustle and bustle of Federal Hill and its many guests had never held much interest for me, especially since I was the only boy there, and so this year Mama had told me to go off on my own and explore what I wished; after all, I was 17. I was a man now, so I didn't need to keep one hand fastened to her skirts at all times. I have to say, this breath of new freedom elated me and left me feeling rather giddy that day. Luckily there was no one locked into the stocks today, so I was able to have this little square of wood all to myself for the time being. Behind me sat the jail, and back beyond that the gallows and the criminal's cemetery. To my right was Talbott Tavern, a lively inn and pub that offered hours of endless entertainment from watching the drunkards stumble their way out and try to find their ways home. Rumors flew that Jesse James himself frequented the place, but I had yet to see his infamous white cowboy hat there in all the times I'd visited here. I'd also heard tell that he and his brother Frank both had been held in the jail at Brandenburg along the Ohio River, but somehow they'd managed to pull a daring escape and disappear as they always inevitably would do.

Secretly I looked up to Jesse, and I wanted to be just like him when I was growing up. It was strange to think that someone so legendary was only 9 years older than me. Mama like to have never approved of this, but luckily for me she couldn't read the newspaper articles I kept since they were in English. You would think that with having two immigrated parents they would've taught me their language, but I didn't speak a lick of Korean. Mama had this notion that because they'd come to America they must leave everything behind and become Americans themselves, and so she remained stubborn in her mission to keep me as much a true American as she possibly could.

I let my eyes wander over the crowd gathered in the square as I ate, ignoring the little tug of disappointment in my gut when the white hat was once again not there. There were still plenty of other people to watch, so it wasn't the end of the world. People watching is probably my favorite hobby; I like to take in as much detail as I can, and I like to make up stories in my head about where they might be from or what their lives may be like outside of this small bubble of time that we were sharing currently. It was a curious thought, that every single person we meet in the streets or elsewhere lives their own complicated life full of friends and relatives and problems that we will never know about. It can baffle one's brain if you sit and try to think too hard on it. I believe the most interesting one so far today was the lady in the heavy bear fur coat, wearing a hat with an entire stuffed peacock perched on it. Did she not feel that the heat was close to a hundred degrees and rising?

It was while I was watching this eccentric lady strut about that I felt a heavy hand clap down on my shoulder. The fingers were like fat sausages, and I found myself suddenly surrounded by the smell of ale and unwashed man. Who the hell?

I turned my head to tell off this newcomer when his face swam into view; Nelson County sheriff Buford Skaggs, known far and wide for his abilities to drink heavily before either fucking or shooting whatever was in sight. From the smell of him he'd gotten a head start on quenching his thirst for the day. I wore my hair long in those days and I wasn't able to grow much in the way of facial hair, so I could understand if he'd mistaken me for some poor woman without a chaperone to protect her from his advances. "Sheriff, you're kind of hurting me there--"

"Everyone likes a little pain now and then, darlin'," he drawls, leaning closer to my face with a leering grin. It was hard to mistake his intentions, but luckily for me we were in broad daylight and there would be witnesses abound if he tried to get fresh with me.

I shrugged my shoulder kind of harshly, trying to throw him off. “Back off, Sheriff.”

The sheriff didn’t seem much to mind my warning tone, not that I had expected him to. Since John Rowan had died, he had become the most powerful man in all of Nelson County. In fact, my protests only seemed to make him more and more interested. Surely he couldn’t still be mistaking me for a woman, could he? My voice should’ve been a dead giveaway. He leaned in closer, so close I could smell the whiskey on his breath, and pressed a sloppy kiss to my cheek that sent shivers of disgust racing down my spine. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in this town. Are you sure you don’t want to give me s little kiss? Just one won’t hurt nothin’.”

I knew full well that I shouldn’t exactly deck the sheriff in front of nearly half the town, but by this point there wasn’t much else I could do. His crusty lips came nearer and nearer to me, expecting to be met by lips of my own. 

Instead, Sheriff Skaggs made a loud grunt of pain when my knuckles met his teeth. It stung a little, but judging from the way he went reeling back it had to have hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did me. Once he’d gotten his wits about him again he turned to stare at me, eyes as wide as Mama’s fancy china plates. “You’re gonna pay for that, son.”

“You threatnin’ me?” I shot back, although my heart was hammering away in my chest. By this point we were starting to draw attention to ourselves. Trust everyone not to see the actual quarrel and only notice the punch itself. That definitely couldn’t work out well in my favor. 

Sheriff Skaggs slowly stumbled to his feet, and I hastily jumped to mine to let him know that he wasn’t going to intimidate me that easily. I was a good head taller than him, but I was also fairly certain that he outweighed me by a solid 200 pounds. “I am the law, don’t you dare accuse me of that nonsense,” he snaps, making like he was reaching forward to grab me again. 

“I might have a little more respect if the law weren’t a fat, stinking drunkard!” 

I’m not entirely sure what defiant spirit had possessed my immortal soul in that moment; Mama surely hadn’t raised me to backtalk to my elders, and everyone from here to the Mississippi knew full well that Buford Skaggs would hang you soon as look at you when he was in a mood like this.

By now a crowd had formed around us, and I had no choice but to lay down in the hole I'd just dug myself in to. With a shaking hand I pointed at him. "The sheriff tried to kiss me!"

The crowd tittered with shock and slight amusement, but Sheriff Skaggs wasn't about to let me get away with saying that that easily—especially not when I'd just accused him of molestation so boldly. "He's lying to all of you to save his own skin! I caught him trying to pickpocket me! You know how those filthy Chinese monkeys are—always greedy and grabbing for more with their sticky fingers!"

A flash of hot red rage flooded my vision then, and before I had a chance to reason with myself over this my feet were carrying me forward at an alarming rate of their own volition. Several of the spectators screamed while others cheered. Fights always made for a cheap source of entertainment for everyone watching.

You have to give that old pig some credit; he moves much faster than his looks would have you believe. I almost had him within arm's reach when suddenly all I saw was the dark blur of his whiskey bottle flying towards me. The details of of what followed have always been a bit fuzzy to me—I remember feeling a dull thunk against my skull before a sharp pain presented itself in my temple, accompanied by the tumultuous sound of glass shattering.

The amused laughter of the crowd surrounding us slipped further and further into the distance as everything fell dark.


	2. Mama’s Advice

I woke up in a daze, my head swimming as if I were just waking up from a long night's worth of hard drinking. I don't know what Skaggs—or one of his cronies—had slipped me during my blackout, but from the sickly sweet smell that was permeating my nostrils and the rolling waves of nausea deep in my belly I could only assume that it had to have been chloroform in some form. It was only supposed to be used as anesthetic for severe surgeries, but I had no doubts that Skaggs was friendly enough with the local doctors to get ahold of a supply for his own personal use. What that use was I didn't know, but I'm sure it was something far more sinister than the general self-medicating that normal folks used it for. 

The room I was in was hot, the air sticky with humidity. Someone had opened a window and forgotten to shut it. Down below it, the sounds of the the town began to pour in. Even early in the morning it was busy and bustling as always. The light filtering through the curtains was silvery, and the cool breeze causing them to flutter carried an earth smell on its back. Just like every other day during the summer here, we could expect a thunderstorm to hit before sundown. Hunched in one corner was an armoire, its mirror cracked and paint chipping. My bed for the evening was covered in a handsewn quilt, the once-white linen squares decorated with printed forget-me-nots. It looked like any other small-town boarding room. 

I curled my legs up to stretch, and that’s when the pain hit me and left me gasping for breath. It seemed to be radiating from my lower back, sending shockwaves of pain up my shoulders and all the way down to the very tips of my toes. My first fear was that Skaggs had injured me in a way during our fight so as to leave me paralyzed. That made no sense though; if I was paralyzed, why would I still feel everything?

Gingerly I sat up, being much more careful now that I realized that there was an injury somewhere on me. I wasn’t trying to make it worse before I had a chance to assess the damage. Where had Mama been for all of this? She must’ve been worried sick by now. To call my mother overprotective would’ve been the understatement of a century; if so much as one of my sighs sounded off to her she’d immediately send for a doctor. I guess she couldn’t deal with losing me since she’d already lost Daddy. This must just be tearing her to pieces. 

I was in the process of figuring out where the hell I was—a governor’s suite in Talbott Tavern, if you were wondering—when a pile of rumpled up clothing tossed carelessly into a corner caught my eye. Those were my clothes. But if my clothes were there…

Ignoring the pain this time, I ripped off the blankets to reveal a...dress? I was in a dress? I turned to the mirror to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, and I wasn’t; I was wearing a pretty yellow dress, complete with lacy ruffles at the cuffs and along the neckline. Red lipstick was crudely smeared on and around my mouth, staining my skin pink underneath. One strand of my hair fell shorter than the others, giving me the impression that someone might’ve cut it as a souvenir of whatever had happened last night. 

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. 

The dress. The lipstick. The pain in my backside. 

Skaggs had had his way with me when I’d been unconscious, and possibly other men as well. He’d probably told all of them that bought a whore to share for the evening and let them come and go as they pleased. 

I scrambled out of bed then, not daring to allow myself to wonder if the heat was the only reason I was sticky, and hurriedly tore off my dress so I could put my own clothes back on. Bruises and bitemarks decorated the entire upper half of my torso, but I refused to let myself dwell on them. I didn’t want to know how they’d gotten there, nor who had put them there in much the same way I didn’t want to acknowledge that the rusty stains on the innermost petticoat were likely painted by my own blood. Right now, my only priority was finding Mama. 

A few of the tavern’s other overnight guests were gathered around the coffee table in the parlor just outside of our rooms, and from the way they hushed up when I stepped out I was under the impression that they most likely had been gossiping about me. One man gave me a suggestive smirk and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but I didn’t stick around to find out what it might have been. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries with some outsider at the moment. I instead fumbled my way down to the main lobby, wincing with every step. Note taken; I wasn’t going to be riding a horse comfortably anytime soon. My boots no sooner had hit the floor than the bartender told me, all without looking up, “Mrs. Lee is with Miss Rebecca. She said if I happened to see you to tell you that.”

With a grateful nod, I turned on my heel and headed straight out the door. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

 

Mrs. Rowan’s driveway was all uphill, lined on either side by magnificent old elm trees. John Rowan Sr.’s former law office greets you at the very bottom, serving as the starting point on the climb ahead of you. It felt almost like climbing a great mountain despite it not being that steep, only instead of being reward with a panoramic view at the top you were met with the equally as beautiful mansion that they called Federal Hill. The red clay bricks were stacked three stories high, making it seem like the old house was reaching up to the heavens. Mr. Stephen Foster once wrote a song about it, but I think he might have been exaggerating a tad bit when he’d described it as a “little cabin” in one of his lines. Indeed this was not a cabin, but rather a castle that often served to house and protect many a powerful man inside. As was a common custom in Kentucky, a whitewashed tin star was hung between the top row of windows and the roofline. I’m not sure why people did this, but I’ve heard tell that it’s for good luck to all who pass under it. The star was more favored than the lesser common used horseshoe, because horseshoes could be turned upside down to spill out all the good luck that they collected. 

Madge—the youngest of Rebecca’s 10 children, just a year older than I—must have been watching for me from the window of the formal parlor, because as soon as I crested that hill the lace curtains fluttered before she came rushing out towards me, golden hair and delicate skirts flying every which way. “Minnie! Minnie, we were so worried for you! Are you alright? Oh honey, your face is all black and blue!” she exclaimed as she got nearer, her voice high and clear as a silver bell. 

I could do nothing but pull her into my arms for a hug, needing just a moment of comfort. Madge was a sweetheart of mine, one serious enough that I had all but proposed to her at this time, and just the scent of her familiar perfume helped to settle my nerves for the time being. With us already seeing each other as the other’s fiancée I’d daresay that she was the only one who would be as worried as Mama, if not moreso. “Madge, I—“

“No no, not a word! Minnie, look at you! We must get you cleaned up! Come along now!” Without giving me any chance to argue to she grabbed me by the hand, marching me straight up the stairs to her dressing room on the second floor. That was one thing I loved about this woman; she always found a way to take charge and get done what needed doing, propriety be damned. The wooden stairs behind us creaked a few minutes after she’d undressed me entirely and had started washing me with a wet rag, and when I turned to look over my shoulder I found myself face to face with both Mama and Miss Rebecca. 

“Minhyuk, what happened to you?! You look like you’ve been mauled by a bear! What did you—?”

“Madge, you should know better than to bring an unmarried man into your boudoir! You should have asked for one of us to chaperone—“

Both women started in at the same time, their words blending together in a strange blur of English and Korean, and my head was left swimming as I struggled to translate both at once. Luckily, Madge stepped in before it went too far. “Mother, for shame! Obviously Minnie has had a very rough night out on the town, and I think caring for our guest is a bit higher of a priority than what is and isn’t considered proper. Don’t you think so? I’m a grown woman, and Minnie is a gentleman. We are more than capable of handling ourselves perfectly well while I tend to him. Why don’t you take Mrs. Lee back downstairs for another glass of tea? I’m sure there will be no complaints from either of you for having extended time to converse. We will join you momentarily.” With that, she pointedly shut the door in their faces to prevent any rebuttal from Miss Rebecca. 

I couldn’t help but to stare at her in admiration, rendered completely speechless for the moment. “Madge, I—“

She silenced me by lightly splashing me with the water from her pitcher. “I love you too, although now you owe me the biggest diamond ring you can possibly find when you do finally propose,” she teased with a smile. “Now hold still so I can finish your bath.”

I instantly snapped to attention and held as still as a statue, hoping to get a laugh out of her. I instead received an eye roll and a warm smile, but that’s close enough for me. Madge’s touches were light as a feather, as if she were washing a delicate crystal glass rather than a person’s injuries. The minutes ticked by lazily in comfortable silence between us before she finally looked up to meet my gaze. “Minnie, what’s your word for beautiful?”

“Um...beautiful?” I questioned, laughing a bit. “I don’t have a different word for it, although a good synonym might be Madge Rowan. 

She snorts before splashing me again. “I meant the word in Korean, you silly man.”

“Oh. Uh….” I had to rack my brain for several seconds, trying to remember. As I said earlier, Mama had been adamant from the time I was born that I spoke English and only English. Still, that didn’t mean I hadn’t picked up on a decent amount of words and phrases throughout the years. “Areum—areumdaun? Areumdawo? It’s something like that. I’m pretty sure that areumdaun only means beautiful, but areumdawo has multiple meanings like beautiful or nice. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

She makes a face at me. “What about pretty? Is that an easier word for you?”

“Pretty? Yeah, that’s easy. It’s yeppeo.”

“Yeppeo?” she checks, and when I nodded in approval she smiles brightly. “Then...Minnie is very, very yeppeo.” I couldn’t hide the blush that rose to my cheeks, and I must’ve made a face because she began to laugh. 

“Yah!! Hush now. You’re...hush. Just hush.” I buried my face in my hands as my blush intensified and her laugh grew louder. 

“I couldn’t help it. Men need to be complimented on their looks every now and then too.” She stands up and tosses a towel at me. “Dry yourself off while I go hunt for some clean clothes for you. We can’t have you walking around the house as naked as the day you were born, can we? Imagine the scandal!”

“Maybe I want to cause a scandal,” I quipped, securing the towel around my hips to give myself some semblance of modesty. Madge stuck her tongue out at me playfully before she slipped out of the room, her laugh carrying into the next room over. 

God hasn’t exactly dealt me the best of hands in my life, but I do have to give him thanks for my woman. May he always smile down graciously on Madge Rowan. 

Between the wardrobes of her brothers, her late father, and the former slaves, Madge was able to find an entire outfit that fit me before she sent me back downstairs to speak to Mama and Miss Rebecca. The two were seated on the bench of the piano in the formal parlor together, with Miss Rebecca trying to show Mama how to play the My Old Kentucky Home song I told you about earlier. The Rowans’ piano had always been an object of interest to me; its keys were crafted entirely of mother-of-pearl, and when the sun’s rays hit them just right they threw off rainbows pretty enough to match any opal’s. 

Miss Rebecca was the first to notice me standing in the doorway, and with a polite smile she rose gracefully from her seat. “Well, it’s not my place to eavesdrop! I’ll leave you and your son to talk, Mina. Come and find me when you’re done. It’s much too late for you to go back to Hodgenville tonight, anyway. I insist you two stay here tonight.”

Too late? The stagecoach ran to Elizabethtown until 6, and the train until 9. It was early in the morning, wasn’t it?

But no, it turns out I was the one that was wrong. The grandfather clock standing proudly beside Miss Rebecca’s horsehair sofa informed me that it was closing in on half past 8. Madge’s bath had taken at least an hour, and the mansion was nearly a half-hour’s walk from the tavern. If that were the case, it meant I must’ve been asleep until 5:30 in the afternoon. What in the hell had those bastards slipped me to keep me down and out for so long?

While I was lost in thought Miss Rebecca finished up her conversation was Mama, and once I heard her dainty footsteps upstairs above us I sank down to sit beside Mama on the bench. She allowed me a moment’s peace, and then she began to pluck at my sleeve to get my attention. “Play. Play the song for me.”

The pastor at our church kept a piano for hymns during services, and when I’d shown interest in the music as a child he took the time to teach me a few of the songs from the worn old hymnal that he used every Sunday. I could only remember how to play one now, and that’s only because it’s Mama’s favorite and she demands to hear it if I come even remotely close to a piano. I took a moment to orient my hands properly, and then began to play the first few notes of Amazing Grace. The Rowans’ piano was much better kept and tuned than Pastor Barrow’s, and music flowed from it smoothly. She closed her eyes and smiled as she listened, swaying along to the familiar tune. When the song ended, she wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Tell me what happened, my Minhyukkie. Who hurt you?”

I stared blankly at those iridescent keys for a long moment before tears welled up in my eyes. Angrily I wiped them away with the back of my hand. He didn’t deserve my tears. “It was the sheriff, Mama. We got in an argument and he knocked me out, and then he—“ I had to pause for a moment, choking on my words because I was so disgusted with both Skaggs and myself. “—he fucked me, Mama. Him and maybe others, I don’t know. I can’t remember any of it, they just left me in that room and I woke up wearing a dress and makeup and—“

“Shhhh…” she hushed me, attempting to soothe me. She gathered me in her arms and began to comb my hair with her fingers, something she’d often done throughout my life whenever I’d get upset. Mama would always refuse to let me cut my hair short in the style of the other American men. She insisted that it had to be long, because it accentuated my face and made me pretty like the “flower boys” back home in Korea. I resented it now. 

“He has wronged you, my son.”

“I know.”

“He has hurt you deeply, inside and outside.”

“I know, Mama.”

“Do you know what you must do now, Minhyuk?”

“No, Mama.”

Mama pulled back to study me with those piercing eyes of hers. There was something unfamiliar there now, something cold and dark that had me quaking in fear down to my very soul. She held that gaze for what felt like an eternity, not blinking and appearing to not even breathe. 

“Mama…?”

My voice was apparently all it took to break the spell, because once I spoke she lurched forward to hug me tightly. She held me tightly for a second before craning upward to reach my ear, and in the softest of voices she whispered, “You must kill him, Minhyukkie.”


	3. Fateful Night

I feel deeply sorry for anyone who hasn’t spent a lazy hour at twilight in the American South, because their lives must be something mundane at the very least. It was just after 9 o’clock at night, and yet the sun had only just sunk below the horizon. Dusk has always been and always will remain my favorite time of the day during summer time, because that’s when the storms roll in and you can watch the heat lightning flash across a clear sky. In an hour or so it was high likely that thunder would start to grumble way out in the distance, creeping its way slowly closer to us. Bardstown sits right in the middle of a little mountain range that we affectionately call The Knobs, and every little flash would outline their rolling hills out along the horizon. 

Madge’s magnolia tree at the entrance to their garden was full of pink blooms, the flowers throwing off their strange perfume. I’ve never been able to accurately describe the smell of a magnolia to someone, but the closest I’ve gotten is black licorice mixed with lemonade. It doesn’t sound like something that should be combined, but the smell is intoxicating in the most wonderful sense of the word. 

The lightning bugs were just starting to stir, their lights flickering on for the first time tonight. They made their beds in the hearts of the magnolia flowers, and as they awoke they turned the flowers into a million lights that twinkled merrily in the approaching darkness. It was was under this natural-made chandelier that I decided to sit while I gathered my thoughts. Mama’s words of advice weighed heavily on my mind, carving out a pit in the very deepest depths of my stomach. 

‘You must kill him, my son.’

How could she suggest something so drastic? I wasn’t a criminal mastermind, not by a long shot. Surely I’d be caught and skinned alive just for having the gall to smuggle a gun into the jailhouse, let along for murdering a man in cold blood! I couldn’t even shoot a squirrel to keep us fed in the wintertime without crying for it, and yet Mama seemed convinced I could look another human being in the eyes a his immortal soul descended to Hell below. I could see now that even Mama has a spark of wickedness deep within her that matched that of any other man. 

Still….

On the other hand, I did want to hurt him. Badly so, if there were a way to do it without getting caught or killing him. An inconsolable piece of was burning up with rage, wanting to steal his dignity from him as he had done me. 

This vicious debate back and forth in my mind continued, and I was so preoccupied by it that I didn’t hear Madge until she’d plopped down beside me in the grass. Her hoop skirts splayed out in a lacy halo around her, sending up a cloud of lightning bugs and bluegrass dust. In her hands was two plates of Moss Rebecca’s rhubarb pie. She offers me on of them with a little smile. 

“Dessert for your thoughts?”

My stomach was still knotted tightly, but I took the plate anyway. She’d be even more worried if I’d suddenly stopped eating; I’d already barely touched my supper earlier, and that must have tipped her off that something was up. Maybe I should ask for her advice on this. This was my Madge, after all; I could trust her with anything. “Can I ask your opinion?”

“You want a woman’s appearance? How very progressive of you,” she teases with a smile, reaching for my free hand. “Of course, I’d be happy to help. What’s on your mind?”

“Well...say someone wronged you. We’ll say they swindled you of everything and then ruined your reputation to make your side of the story lose all credibility. Would killing that person resolve the quarrel, or should you still have to endure the consequences of your actions?”

Madge went silent for a moment as she mulled my words over. “My grandfather had a similar predicament, you know. You remember the story, don’t you? He and a local doctor began to argue over who spoke more of the dead languages during drinks at Talbott, and they decided to duel over it. Their first shot missed, and then Grandpa John shot the doctor. Nothing could be done, mind you, and he died on the lawn. In the law’s eyes he’d done nothing wrong, since it was a duel, and so they ruled it an accident. He had to live with that guilty conscience, though. In your case, I’d think the law might side with you. You’re the one who has to live with what you did.”

Now it was my turn to be quiet; Madge clearly knew more than she was letting on about the situation. “Did Miss Rebecca tell you?”

She shakes her head, giving my hand a squeeze. “I heard you talking with Miss Mina,” she starts carefully, watching my face to make sure I wasn’t going to react badly. When I nodded for her to keep going, she relaxed a little and continued, “I have to say though, despite what happened with Grandpa John and what the law may think, I don’t condone murder. Thou shalt not kill, remember? And God forbid someone catch you or you don’t dispatch him properly; that old hog will squeal faster than you can blink, and they’ll have you strung up somewhere before you have time to finish the Lord’s prayer. The situation was different with the doctor, because while he was a man of great repute he wasn’t a law man. Law men are different; killing them kills you, and it doesn’t matter what they did or didn’t do. I don’t think I can be married to a murderer, Minnie. The repercussions would be intense, you realize that right? If they don’t put you on death row, they’ll lock you up for what is potentially going to be the rest of our lives. I can’t wait forever for you. I love you, but...I just couldn’t do it.”

My heart sank at that. Lose Madge? Now that was definitely something I couldn’t do. I gave her hand a tight squeeze, and I was about to give her my answer when she started up again. “However, just as plainly as it tells you not to kill the Good Book also states that thou shalt not commit adultery, and given the circumstances of our relationship and the fact that he’s married—however unhappily—I’d say he’s a likely candidate as an adulterer. In some twisted, convoluted way I guess it could be argued that you were taking an eye for an eye. I can’t begrudge you that.”

Silence fell between us then, interrupted only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the rattle of cicadas in the branches above us. Somewhere off in the distance, a coyote started up his nightly song. Travelers from out of town have often told me that a wolf’s howl is a thing of beauty, but a coyote’s is just downright eerie; they sound like crying children. In hindsight, it should probably have been taken as an omen. 

Without a word Madge stood up beside me, gathering our dirty dishes before she headed around back of the house to the detached kitchen. I tried to grab her hand, to ask her to sit with me just a moment more, but she brushed me off with an air of dismissal before vanishing. I was at a loss now; if I did this Madge would never speak to me again, and she would also possibly turn me in to the proper authorities. If I didn’t, Mama might just do it herself and get caught instead. Either way, I’d lose. I just want to go home and forget any of this had ever happened. Feeling defeated, I hung my head and covered my face with my hands. 

It was in this position Madge found me when she returned nearly ten minutes later, an uneasy expression on her face. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if she had expected someone to have followed her. Normally she didn’t give two shits whether someone was watching her or not, so something definitely wasn’t right here. 

“Madge? What’re you up to honey?”

She tosses one more glance over her shoulder before she sits back down beside me, pulling something wrapped in a red handkerchief from her pocket. Curious, I leaned a little closer to get a better look. Quickly she pulled the fabric away to reveal a—a gun. A Colt Army Revolver, the 1860 model if my memory served me right. My eyes widened as my heart began to pound in my chest. “Madge, what in the hell are you thinking? Where did you get that?”

“It was Papa’s,” she explained shortly, shoving it into my hands. It was heavier than expected, its metal freezing cold despite the warm night air. “I took it from his study. Mother doesn’t let us go in and she doesn’t go either, so I guarantee she isn’t going to miss it. Just know that once you use it you can’t ever come back. Do you understand me? You have to run far away, that way no one’ll get you. You can’t let them get you.”

I was dumbfounded; even as against this as Madge had been just a few minutes ago, she was still helping me? “Madge, I can’t take this. Where would I even go?” I tried handing it back over to her, but she wouldn’t budge. 

“California. That’s where all the outlaws go, isn’t it?”

“Why would I go all the way out to California, and how would I even get there? It would just be easier to follow the Knobs out east to hide out in Appalachia with the shine runners. As long as I catch an early morning train to Lexington I’m sure I could get myself a horse and ride out that way. You’d be able to visit me, then. Who knows? Maybe a tribe of Indians will take me in,” I joked, making an attempt to simultaneously lighten the mood and change the subject. Madge, however, was not to be distracted. 

“That’s no good, Minnie. If you really do it, they’ll expect you to hide out in the mountains or the coal fields. You have to go West, and California is as far west as you can get. Haven’t you heard the saying that California is full of whiskey, women and gold? A handsome man like you could go and live a life of luxury there.”

“All for the low price of one man’s life and the fate of my immortal soul. I’m not going to do it, Madge. That’s final.”

She suddenly seemed relieved, and she threw her arms around my neck to hug me tightly. “Thank God...I was afraid that as soon as I handed you the gun you wouldn’t have hesitated. I’m so glad…”

I stared at her in shock, feeling slightly betrayed now. “So that was just a test? Are you serious?”

Her grip on me didn’t loosen, although she did tense up a little against me. “I had to be sure. You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

I stood up then, my pride getting the better of me. She’d really had the audacity to question my integrity like this so nonchalantly, and it actually hurt to know that she didn’t think so highly of me after all. Unthinkingly, I tucked the old Colt into my pocket. “We can discuss this later. I’m going for a walk to clear my head. Don’t wait up for me.”

She furrowed her brow and drew her face into a pout, clearly not pleased at all by this outcome. “Where are you going? Do you realize how late it’s getting?”

“Yes, and I’m a fully grown man who is completely capable of walking by himself,” I snapped, my voice coming out far sharper than I’d intended it to. 

Her shoulders slumped then, and a bit of guilt twisted my stomach. “Look Maddy, I’m...I’m sorry. I just need to go and get some fresh air. I’ll be back later on, so you can wait up if it’ll make you feel better. I love you.”

Madge nodded glumly, standing up as well to press a sweet kiss to my lips. I figured I owed her at least that much as an apology, and so I let it linger for a minute or two. When she was satisfied, she stepped back and gave me a small smile. “I’ll wait up for you if you promise to share a bed with me tonight, Minhyuk Lee.”

I couldn’t help but to smile at her not-so-subtle invitation. What man could? I leaned down and kissed her cheek on more time. “It’s a promise. I’ll see you soon, honey.”

With a pleased smile she headed back inside, and I turned to start down that grand slope of a driveway. 

 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

 

Looking back now, I think I subconsciously knew all along what I was going to get up to that night. 

At the bottom of the hill I made a left turn, intending on going to the tavern to have a drink or two. Neither Mama nor Miss Rebecca approved of drinking, but sometimes it’s the only thing that’ll soothe a man’s frayed nerves. The temperature outside had dropped by about ten degrees, and the lazy flashes of lightning above me were now accompanied by the rich baritone of distant thunder. The storm was ever steadily creeping closer. 

Both the tavern and the neighboring jailhouse were nearly a mile away from Federal Hill, and yet it seemed like I’d only blinked once and then I was there. Loud bluegrass music poured from the tavern’s opened doors and windows, periodically interrupted by boisterous laughter from within. Prostitutes and their escorts for the evening hung around the terrace above, sneaking kisses and perhaps more in the shadows that candlelight couldn’t break up. 

The jailhouse was a dismally solemn neighbor next door; the squat building’s were all barred and dark, save for the one on the bottom floor where Sheriff Skaggs kept his office. Out front was tied a young black stallion, lazily munching on hay that had been scattered on the cobblestone surrounding him. I guess the old pig’s weight had finally broken his lovely old filly, and this yearling was meant to be her replacement. Poor soul. 

I’ll never know what it was that changed my direction that night, but next thing I knew I was pushing open the heavy wooden door and approaching Skagg’s desk. “Sheriff.”

I just needed closure. Yeah, that was it. I would just ask him a few questions, get an apology if I could, and then I’d head back home to Madge. 

Surprisingly, he wasn’t drinking tonight; I’d hoped he’d be drunk, because he was far less intimidating when he was inebriated. Unfortunately for me, he seemed to be alert and responsive. My voice got his attention, and once he recognized me a sick grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. What few teeth he had left were rotted blacker than sin, giving him a ghoulish appearance when he smiled. “Well, if it isn’t my pretty little China doll! Did you forget this?”

He held up a brassy tube of bright red lipstick, and it felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. It was him after all! I’d been hesitant to believe it, wanting to see the good in him and give him the benefit of the doubt since he was supposed to be a sworn upholder of the law, but here he was flaunting what he’d done to my face!

Any trace of shock or anger on my face evaporated, and I mustered up what I considered to be the most flirtatious smile I had for him. He wanted to play games? Alright, let’s fucking play games. “Do you still want that kiss, Sheriff?”

He broke into another black-toothed smile, scooting his chair back from his desk so he could pat his thigh. “Come a little closer, pretty boy. I can’t take care of you when you’re all the way over there.”

Swallowing both my pride and disgust, I made an attempt to sashay my hips as women do when I walked over to him. His hands closed around my waist when I finally got close enough, pulling me down to perch on his knee. I managed a shy little giggle, twirling a strand of my long hair around one finger. The sheriff licked his lips as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, his breathing suddenly heavier than before. I must’ve been better at this than I had thought. 

“Are you going to put on your pretty lipstick for me?”

Fuck no, I thought. 

“If that’s what you want,” I said with another smile, batting my eyelashes as I’d often seen Madge do. It was my memory of how she teased me that I was relying on now; if it served me well and I could pull off a convincing impersonation of her, this might actually go rather smoothly. I tilted my head to one side, allowing my smile to shift into something a little more suggestive. “Do you have a mirror? Or...perhaps you’d like to do it for me instead?”

I was pressed so close to him that I could feel his heart quicken with excitement now—I hate to admit that I kind of hoped he’d suddenly have a heart attack and die due to the excitement—and eagerly he picked up the little tube again. I swept my hair back from my face, holding it out of the way. He probably thought it was to make this easier for him, but the reality of it was that I just really didn’t want him to play with it. The less he actually touched me, the better. 

Skaggs took his time, his brow furrowing as he focused on the task at hand, carefully painting my lips as if I were some delicate canvas that he was afraid of tearing if he pressed too hard. It seemed to drag on forever, and it felt entirely too intimate for my liking. I’d pictured our confrontation to be intense in an entirely different sense of the word; this wasn’t nearly as exciting as a violent fist fight would’ve been. This was just nauseating. 

After a minute or so he pulled back to admire his work, and this time I had to work to force a pleasant smile. “How does it look?”

“Red definitely looks good on you,” he mused, his eyes hazy with newfound lust. Under me I could feel the telltale hardening of an impatient man rising to the occasion. I shifted uncomfortably in his lap; I was decidedly still very sore, and if I let this go too far it was beyond doubt that the pain would actually make me want to keel over and die. I swallowed hard before making myself gaze up into his eyes. “Well? You gonna kiss me or what?”

He regarded me in silence for a moment before he closed his eyes, leaning in in what felt like slow motion. My mind set to racing a million miles a minute, thought after thought popping into my head like exploding popcorn kernels, screaming about how if I didn’t stop myself now I’d be a liar and I’d never be allowed home. 

Nah. It was too late to turn back now. 

I drew the gun from my pocket and placed it against his hammering heart, thanking my lucky stars that he couldn’t see it from his angle and seemingly couldn’t feel it through his shirt. His lips settled on mine, moving in an unreciprocated kiss. Now my opportunity was presented on a silver platter, but like an idiot I hesitated. I was frozen solid as panic set in, gripping me tightly in its grasp. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of fight-or-flight response here? Instead I felt like a deer caught in lantern light. Maybe I should pretend to faint and play dead. 

I started to pull the gun away so I could put it away when his hand closed around my thigh, not even a hint of subtlety as he slid it higher and higher up. Pure adrenaline flooded through my veins and time almost seemed to stand still as I came to my senses and bolted off his lap, backing up a few feet away from him. Before I knew what I was doing, I had the old Colt cocked and aimed at his chest. “Getting a little handsy, aren’t we Sheriff?”

It takes Skaggs a minute for his simple brain to process what was happening, but once it all clicked into place he rose from his chair. I kept the gun trained on him, wanting to be ready in case he charged me or tried to make a run for it. “You son of a bitch. You’re a good actor.”

“Watch it Sheriff, that’s my Mama you’re talking about,” I snarled, the same anger that had driven me to punch him the day before now driving me forward until I was toe to toe with him. The end of the barrel pressed into his chest, serving as the only thing standing between us now. This time I made sure he was fully aware of its presence. “Did you really think that badge would protect you from the consequences of your actions?”

Incredibly, he began to laugh in my face. “You’re bluffing, sugar. Do you know how many people have tried this on me before? They always come in here, ranting about retribution and waving weapons around to try and intimidate me, but in the end they can’t pull the trigger or the gun was never loaded to begin with! Do you really think you can fool me so easily? Why don’t you just tuck your tail and run along now? The real man here is trying to get his work done.” He gestured toward a stack of papers on his desk before he snorts in mild amusement. “You think you’re going to come in here and shoot me? Yeah, right. That dog don’t hunt, pretty boy.”

I smiled pleasantly at him, moving my finger to the trigger. “Oh honey, bless your heart. You really don’t think I’m worth taking seriously, do you?”

Skaggs’ eyes widened then, and I could tell he now recognized that he was staring the grim reaper in the face. His face went white as a sheet, and he began to tremble so hard that the end of the gun jiggled back and forth with him. “Wait, no, please—“

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, leaving behind a red lip print before whispering in his ear, “Goodnight, Sheriff. We can have a drink together when I get to Hell.”

Skaggs fell to his knees and began to whimper, stuttering out half-formed pleas for his life. The sounds of his distress only filled me with glee. 

“Sweet dreams, Sheriff.”

He managed one last “please!” before I pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments! I love constructive criticism of any kind :)


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